


Bathtubs and Bottoms

by badwolfbadwolf



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bathing/Washing, First Time, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22675024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfbadwolf/pseuds/badwolfbadwolf
Summary: Geralt grunted, the one that meant 'stop being an idiot,' and stepped over to the steaming water, and Jaskier felt rooted to the spot as he watched the muscles bunch and slide as the witcher climbed inside. The hum Geralt made as he slid into the hot water was more emotive and sensual than anything Jaskier had ever heard from him, and he suddenly sprung into action to look for the bath oils because he didn't want to fuck this up and never be invited to this particular party ever again.Or, you know, just some normal heterosexual hair washing between friends.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 46
Kudos: 712





	Bathtubs and Bottoms

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic in like four years, gah! I am head over heels for Geralt/Jaskier. And I'm sorry, there's not actually a lovely bottom in this fic, but I did write this hoping to answer where the heck that line came from.

The first time Geralt had stripped down like it was nothing for a bath, Jaskier could hardly believe it. Sure, he’d been around naked men before— plenty of times— but the casual way this beautiful man just shucked off his clothes and stood before him, well... It was nearly poetic.

“Right, I’ll just… “ Jaskier began, his mouth growing dry as his eyes trailed down the expanse of milky skin, the thick muscles, and the trail of dark hair that led right down to Geralt's very naked and very lovely cock. Just right there and beautifully formed and, well, quite large.

Geralt grunted, the one that meant 'stop being an idiot,' and stepped over to the steaming water, and Jaskier felt rooted to the spot as he watched the muscles bunch and slide as the witcher climbed inside. The hum Geralt made as he slid into the hot water was more emotive and sensual than anything Jaskier had ever heard from him, and he suddenly sprung into action to look for the bath oils because he didn't want to fuck this up and never be invited to this particular party ever again.

And well, yes, he actually had seen Geralt naked before, but scrubbing monster's entrails off oneself in a freezing cold lake did not lend itself to artful appreciation of the fine masculine form. And it was _nothing_ compared to the way Geralt's eyelids fluttered closed for a moment with the simple pleasure of it as he reclined in his naked glory, before his gaze rose half-lidded to peer at Jaskier.

Jaskier's cheeks flushed slightly at being caught staring and he returned to searching through the assortment of bottles on the table, most of which were provided by the innkeeper and a few Geralt had set out carefully after removing them from his pack.

"Rose petals and chamomile," Jaskier murmured, taking a sniff of one and leaning forward to flick a bit of it into the steaming water. "Should be an improvement over the smell of smoke and sweat that you are normally so… blessed with." He watched Geralt's nose flare slightly before he settled back, the man grumbling deep in his chest as he slid down a little deeper and put his arms over the edge of the tub.

"Not too much, bard," he said, Geralt's voice more gravelly than normal and Jaskier was actually amazed to see that the man was becoming more relaxed by the second. Jaskier felt a bit of a puff of pride that he was the one to do this, he was the one trusted to be here, he was the one whom Geralt was closing his eyes around.

They sat for a moment, Jaskier admiring the way the sweat was beginning to creep along Geralt's brow and the way his chest hair was becoming matted and wet with the slow drip of water down from his curling silver hair. The whole thing was incredibly gorgeous and Jaskier could just feel his fingers itching for his lute, his tongue aching to compose a flowery ode and the words 'masculine', 'sleek' and 'breathtaking’ forming into long-winded phrases that he distinctly did not say aloud. Jaskier could only take the silence so long, and he moved back to the collection of bottles.

"Which one is for your hair?" he asked, picking up one that seemed a bit more viscous. It smelled sweet and clean, and he figured Geralt would like that so he turned around and held it up for his approval.

Geralt's eyebrows pulled down, and Jaskier raised his own. "No? Not this one?" He set it down, searching for another and sniffing the scents as he went. The room was getting hotter by the minute, and he pushed up his shirtsleeves, rolling them up one at a time as they began to slip down immediately. 

Geralt grunted again as Jaskier picked up another, and he figured that meant he had the right one this time. It smelled a bit earthy, a scent Jaskier was surprised he recognized. He supposed he had been travelling with Geralt long enough now to become a little familiar… The thought warmed him.

“Bring that over here,” Geralt said, eyes closed, and Jaskier huffed a little.

“You know, I’m a bard, not your manservant,” he said airily, though he brought it over anyways, holding it out to give it to Geralt, who remained impassive with eyes shut and whom Jaskier was beginning to suspect was lulling off to sleep. After a full minute had passed, Jaskier pouted and rounded to the side of the tub, setting down the bottle and kneeling down to pick up a wooden cup placed there. “You’re so lazy.”

Geralt grunted a half laugh, the corner of his lip turning up in a way that delighted Jaskier.

“Has anyone ever washed your hair?” Jaskier asked, dipping the cup into the water and feeling a little thrill of _something_ as Geralt opened his amber eyes and watched his hand dip into the water, suddenly aware of how close they were and how very naked Geralt was. Though really, he hadn’t forgotten that part at all.

“No,” Geralt said, laying back again, eyelids drifting downward before blinking several times and exhaling softly through his nose.

“Just one of my many skills, what with having three sisters who always wanted their hair braided. See, I’ll prove my worth to you yet, Geralt. I may not be handy with a sword but I do have quite… talented fingers.” Jaskier hadn’t meant for it to come out so flirtatiously, but he often felt he wasn’t in control of what flew out of his mouth, and now he bit his lip hoping he hadn’t gone too far.

“Well, get on with it,” Geralt said after a few moments of silence, and Jaskier breathed in again and shuffled a bit behind Geralt. He took his time removing the leather tie so it wouldn’t snag and then carefully poured the cup of water over the back of Geralt’s head, using his other hand to gently run through his hair to get it evenly wet. As Geralt was already leaning over the edge of the tub, this effectively sloshed water all along the front of Jaskier’s shirt and onto his knees as well. He laughed a little, not having really thought this part through, and Geralt did something questioning with his eyebrows.

“Lean forward a bit,” Jaskier instructed. “So I don’t get all wet.” 

Geralt obeyed without a word— a miracle—, his eyes coming open slowly as he sat up, and Jaskier had to get up on his knees a little bit higher now that Geralt wasn’t slumped over. He reached down for the vial, pouring it out into his hand and massaging the sweet smelling liquid along Geralt’s scalp and down into the ends of his hair, his heart delighting as Geralt made a very soft but very real purr. Jaskier had to go back for more soap a second and a third time, humming as he did so, the skin on his forearms starting to turn to goosebumps as the water cooled. He longed to take the wet shirt off as he was near shivering, but he didn’t want to break the spell and make this into something it wasn’t.

Jaskier filled the cup again, rinsing Geralt’s hair out, running his fingers tenderly through the locks until they were clean and mostly tangle-free. “Mm, lovely,” Jaskier murmured, breathing in the smell of earth and steam and soap. He couldn’t resist trailing down Geralt’s neck under the pretense of combing his hair, and when Geralt tilted his head up ever so slightly and licked his lips, Jaskier felt his heart rate pick up.

“Shall I…?” he trailed off, fingers dancing lightly along Geralt’s broad shoulders and Geralt nodded a small nod, but Jaskier saw and grinned, and he began to work into the muscles with vigor. The groan that rumbled from Geralt was sinful, and each time Jaskier found a knot and sunk his thumbs in made him make little noises in the back of his throat. For a man who was light on words, Geralt definitely was demonstrative with his grunts, or maybe it was just that Jaskier was so used to them that he didn’t even need the words anymore.

“Good, yeah?” Jaskier murmured. “See, I’m good, yes?” 

“Hmm.”

Jaskier picked up a cloth and began scrubbing along his shoulders, daring to dip downwards over Geralt’s pectorals and across and under his medallion, and then down, down the broad back until Jaskier didn’t dare go any lower.

“You really do like my singing, I know you were just trying to irritate me,” Jaskier chatted on mindlessly as he worked. He was amazed as Geralt let Jaskier wash him, his head tilted upwards, dark lashes wet against his cheeks and an absolutely gorgeous flush painted across his cheekbones.

“Not like I ever do that to you, of course. I don’t like to see you all riled up. The way those eyes flash and those fangs nip. Not at all attractive.”

After a while, Jaskier didn’t even know what he was saying, the non-verbal responses egging him on, and he realized too late that perhaps he was revealing too much. He felt like he was drunk— overly hot, drenched with water, fingers alight on Geralt’s wet skin. His trousers were growing rapidly tighter, and he began to wonder how he was going to extract himself from this situation once his flimsy excuse for holding a cloth up to Geralt’s naked body was over.

He very deliberately did not look down through the water, though it was soapy and dark, because he didn’t know if he could take looking at that massive cock right now. Even the thought made him swallow, and then Geralt slid his hand underneath the water and he groaned quietly but distinctly, and the noise made Jaskier’s hands freeze.

The slow drip of water was loud, the air seeming to shimmer and then Geralt burred, “Come here” as his other hand reached up to grasp loosely at Jaskier’s wrist and pull him downward. Jaskier went easily, hardly believing it, his hand slipping beneath the water and brushing against Geralt’s stomach, feeling it flex beneath his trembling fingertips. 

“I need,” Geralt said simply. "If you are willing." His brows were drawn tight together, Jaskier inches from his face now that he had been pulled forward. Jaskier was pressed against the tub, body wet, the backs of his knuckles just brushing ever so slightly against Geralt’s hard cock and his heart absolutely hammering in his chest.

“I…” Jaskier began, normally not at a loss for words, but Geralt pushed his hips up slightly and Jaskier could feel the hard length of him. Jaskier turned his hand to loosely encircle him and Geralt made a gorgeous noise that Jaskier would absolutely be replaying in his head every single night for the rest of his life.

He gave up on any type of reservations at that and tightened his grip a bit more, reveling in the marvelous silkiness of Geralt’s cock and the way Geralt’s body tensed up at each slow, upward stroke. Jaskier twisted his hand, wanting to make it good for Geralt, wanting to please him, draw it out and make it perfect. The sounds of the water sloshing and Geralt’s rapidly quickening grunts were almost surreal, and Jaskier let his other hand drag up Geralt’s stomach and clutch at his chest before rubbing against a peaked nipple.

“Yes, that’s it, so good,” Jaskier murmured, his cheek next to Geralt’s, almost touching but not quite. “So good.” He sped his hand up, squeezing on the upstroke, learning what made Geralt’s breath quicken and muscles shake.

“Yes,” Geralt said, voice deep and breathy as he became visibly tenser. “Yes, yes, fuck, Jask… Jaskier. Fuck.” 

When Geralt came it was like a soft wave, his cock flexing, head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut tightly and mouth open on a sigh. It was the most beautiful thing Jaskier had witnessed in his entire life. And then, even better, the man licked his lips and turned his head with his eyes still shut, nuzzling ever so briefly against him, their foreheads touching before Geralt turned away and jerked his hips, the movement of Jaskier’s hand apparently becoming too much.

Jaskier let go, his hand drifting along Geralt’s thigh for a moment before coming up to hook his arm over the side of the tub. He was soaked and still achingly hard, both thrilled and amazed at what had just transpired and unsure of what would come next.

“That was… good,” Geralt rumbled out, shifting in the tub slightly as he made himself more comfortable. And that made Jaskier smile madly from behind him, feeling lighter than that time when he’d been asked to come back for a third encore.

“High praise from you, dear witcher,” he said nonchalantly, shuffling up to standing and feeling his knees groan from kneeling on the wooden floor for so long. He moved over to fiddle with the bottles again, willing his body to calm down, and not wanting to make Geralt feel like he needed to reciprocate. Jaskier wasn’t sure what this was or what it could be, but he was careful, not wanting to spook Geralt though he was currently trailing a hand through the water and humming idly.

“The water’s getting cold,” Geralt said after a few long moments, and he stood to get up, brushing past Jaskier to reach for the cloth and dragging it roughly across his body.

Jaskier did his best not to watch, but it was difficult, the room small, his body still hot and skin tingly. He replaced the corks in the bottles, straightening them up into neat rows, and then nearly yelped when he felt the heat of Geralt from behind him, not touching but just there.

“Should I…” Geralt began in a halting tone, and oh did Jaskier _want_ with a burning, fierce, painful need. He stilled as he thought about it, how his body was singing with want, with wanting _Geralt_. But he wasn’t sure that was what was being offered. He didn’t want the witcher to feel like he _owed_ him anything. Like Jaskier expected it, like Geralt _had_ to.

So instead he half-turned and bit his lip and said, “I’m to play downstairs and am running a bit late, thanks to your vanity.” And here Geralt scoffed, because that was clearly not what had happened. “I must go make myself presentable for my adoring fans.”

Geralt hummed, and a very small almost-smile graced the man’s lips, and it almost made Jaskier change his mind and let Geralt do whatever the fuck he wanted to him, to hell with the patrons and the coin and whatever _feelings_ Jaskier was trying to press down. Jaskier smiled breezily and left the room before he lost any willpower, searching out a change of clothes from within their packs and taking deep breaths to calm himself before making his way downstairs to the din of the tavern.

It was a terrible decision though, Geralt sitting in the very back of the room, bright eyes fixed on him the entire time Jaskier played. He radiated quiet power, the rest of the patrons staying a measurable distance away from the White Wolf as usual, and Jaskier felt Geralt’s rapt attention like a physical caress. It did absolutely nothing to quell the fire burning through him, and Jaskier wondered again why he’d said no to whatever Geralt was offering him upstairs. 

The crowd was lively, the ale good, and when Jaskier collected his coin at the end of the evening he smiled, knowing it was enough for a room and good meals for them both for several nights. He earned his keep. Geralt had said he was good. He had made Geralt come _undone_.

Jaskier stroked his lute lovingly before returning it to its case, deciding that he wouldn’t say no next time. Definitely not. He looked up and met Geralt’s eyes from across the room, heat flaring up in his belly again, and hoping next time was very soon.

**Author's Note:**

> I am on tumblr as [badwolfbadwolf](http://badwolfbadwolf.tumblr.com). Please say hello and squeal with me about these two idiots!


End file.
